Deception
by Mara-Amber
Summary: Being under control of wckd: What is reality, what is delusiveness? Are your decisions your own decisions? Can you trust your feelings? A Newt/OC fiction
1. Chapter 1 - The Recognition

Author's notes:

Usually, I don't like to alter the original but Dashner left me no chance.

The origin of the name for my original character is revealed at the end of the chapter. This fanfiction is strictly told from the OC's POV. She has weaknesses, we learn about them later.

And of course Newt is not dead. I mean… geez, people… this is 'Wckd' we are talking about. Thomas pulled the trigger, but he didn't check on Newt. There is enough space for evil plotting.

I'm not a native speaker, I'm working on my English… hints on notorious mistakes are always welcome.

Since this is a Mara Amber fanfic, you'll have to endure Nick Cave's lyrics at the beginning of each chapter. Sorry.

One last point: I didn't read other fanfiction of 'Maze Runner', it distracts me while writing. I'll read them when I'm finished and I hope that you can recommend me some good Newt/OC-fanfiction.

 **DECEPTION**

 **Chapter one: The Recognition**

 _Well I've been bound and gagged and I've been terrorized  
And I've been castrated and I've been lobotomized  
But never has my tormentor come in such a cunning disguise_

 _I let love in_

 _(from: 'I let love in' by Nick Cave)_

The constant rattling and clattering was hurting her ear, it was far too loud.

In addition her side was hurting, she felt the imprint of the hard underground. It was some kind of a grate she was lying on. With caution she tried to move her legs, they didn't respond to her commands.

She tried to open her eyes and at first it didn't work. Don't panic, she told herself. Panic was a bad advisor, blocking your mind. She took a deep breath and reminded herself that everything would be alright if she kept calm. Analyse the situation, she reminded herself.

With all her concentration left, she tried it a second time and forced her eyes to open. Though it was almost dark, she realised that she was in a cage. From the silhouettes that passed by she concluded that she moved upwards, her stomach confirmed the impression.

There was a white chest right in front of her eyes with a red cross on it. As if it was placed here to be the first thing she saw when opening her eyes. Like an anchor for her memory that appeared right before her eyes.

 _'He failed.'_

 _A pain, a cold grip on her heart. Something terrible had happened._

 _She wouldn't accept it. An hard argument with a girl betraying her name. She knew that she was the one who had to go._

But why? What was it that she had wanted to do so badly? And why didn't anyone in the memory have a face? The panic came back, she felt it rising. What had happened to her memory?

She tried to keep a hold on the memory, but her headache got stronger the harder she tried. Maybe she should try something different.

Another deep breath. Keep calm, panic won't get you anywhere, she told herself. Like a mantra she kept repeating it until it showed an effect.

Once again she tested her arms and legs, she still didn't have the full control over her body, but it was way better than just a moment ago. Accepting that she had to wait a little longer, she closed her eyes. Collecting as much strength as possible could prove useful. If there was only a way to shut out this unnerving noise.

An eternity later she noticed that the box was getting slower. Was the end of her torture near? Or would another torture wait for her? All of a sudden the ride came to an abrupt stop and it was silent.

That meant that things developed, it would show if it was for the better or the worse. At least she wouldn't be here for an eternity.

No, it was not silent, there were voices. Confusing voices, so many of them, talking at the same time.

There was a rattling and with a loud clash something metallic hit a ground.

After all the time enduring the loud clattering, the voices were like whispers. A humming in her ear made it impossible to distinct the words.

Someone called for light and only a few seconds later, a glare, noticeable even through her closed eyes, shone on her.

Only one voice was louder than the others, exclaiming: "It is a girl."

"A girl?" a choir replied. The voices became louder and exited while she heard a shuffling as if the bodies belonging to the voices moved.

With the time the humming subsided and she could follow their debate.

"She is dead." "No, she isn't." "Klunk." "Maybe she is still alive." "Unconscious." "She is dead." "No, she is still breathing." "Is she good-looking?"

"We must get her out."

"Get some ropes."

"We'll go down."

No, it wasn't a debate, it was a bunch of assumptions they were expressing. No one was listening to anyone and no one was answering. Only the last statements were clearly distinguishable after the general excitement.

If they discussed that she was dead, playing possum was an option. Before she confronted them, she wanted to be sure that she had the full control back. Her condition had constantly improved over the last minutes.

After two loud thuds the whole construction was jiggling, two of them had landed in the box and immediately started to fix some ropes around her.

They worked in silence, fast and it felt as if they had done this several times before.

Until the one securing her arms stopped and said "There is something written on her right forearm."

A writing on her right arm? It must have happened after she had been drugged. Only a drug could induce such a condition she was in. The writing could be of importance, especially since it couldn't be hers. She'd deal with it it later, there were more urgent tasks at hand. Causing a confusion just by being a girl couldn't mean anything positive.

"Let us get her out first. Heave ho!" The other one answered and with a jerk they started to pull her up.

She used the time they heaved her to check her muscles one last time. One after the other. At first the right arm, followed by the left arm. Both of them were working. As well as the muscles in her legs. The only problem left was her headache, which got stronger once she forced herself to remember.

They paid attention while placing her on the ground, which was way softer than the bottom of the box. It was damp and cold, it felt like morning dew on grass. Much to her relieve, they removed the ropes immediately. Probably they wouldn't have done it, if they knew her, it occurred to her.

From the directions of the murmuring she could tell that they had formed a circle around her and came closer.

Again, she could distinct several sentences. "She's hot." "She's a scorcher."

Great, just the first thing you wanted to hear, having been drugged, lost your memory and waking up in a box, she gave a résumé. The gathered crowed grew more anxious until one with an authoritative voice called for order.

"Stop it. And stay clear." The person belonging to the voice kneeled beside her and picked up her wrist.

"She is still alive. There is pulse, but it is weak." He announced and there was a common gasp of relief.

"Would have been a real waste otherwise." One commented. She made a mental note of the voice, he needed a serious check.

The kneeling one turned her arm and said. "The writing reads: Subject, the following B is crossed out, then A0. Backup – The balancer."

Another commotion awoke.

Subject A0? Backup? The balancer? That was cryptic. The words didn't mean anything for her, but they rang a bell.

*A girl with blond hair, she understood her, wanted to support her. She wrenched a promise from her. This message was important . *

But what could it mean? The more she thought about the meaning, the more it slipped through her fingers. Still, this riddle didn't have priority one. She would think about it later, trying to force it didn't appear to be helpful anyway, it only caused headache.

But the riddle occupied the ones around her. "What does this mean?" "The balancer?" "Why did she write this?" "Subject A0?" "A message of the creators?" The bystanders were as clueless as she was.

The only intelligent person appeared to be the one kneeling beside her. He placed her hand back and called a second time for order before he gave his opinion. "She hasn't written it by herself."

"And why not, Braniac." One demanded to know.

"The writing is on her right arm. She is right-handed." He answered as if he was shirty stating the obvious.

"How come you know that, visionary?" A rather aggravating voice demanded to know.

Another one answered this time, as if explaining it to a little child. "The knife is secured to her right thigh, moron. When being left-handed, that would be rather unhandy."

"She could be a both-hander." Someone else suggested.

"Still the letters are too neat."

Didn't they have more urgent problems than her handedness? She wondered.

"The medjacks should look after her. Bring her to the homestead." Finally someone with some sense left said something helpful.

Shuffling once more, and this was her chance.

In the split second she was sitting upright, only to notice that it was around dawn. Her sudden movement had the expected effect: they gasped and moved a step backward.

The one kneeling beside her was still close enough, within her reach. A mistake. Without any warning, she went all-out and rammed her elbow against his chest. It took her two jumps. One over the boy, struggling for breath, one pushing two of the open-mouthed boys aside and she was free. Almost. Where should she go?

In a quick check she noticed that she was surrounded by gigantic, smooth rocks. Odd was the perfect square they were forming, to her they appeared artificial. There was a house, there was a garden, there were compounds. The best chance of escape offered the little forest at the right side. Maybe she could hide in the underwood to get away. She wasn't a good runner, but she had a head-start and started to run.

That tore them out of their stupor, she heard them calling and following her. Well, some of them were fast. She had trouble to keep her head start, they were high on her heels. Still, she didn't pay attention what they were shouting, all she wanted was to get away.

Reaching the forest line, she realised that she wouldn't get away. One was so close, that she could feel his breath in her neck. She had to fight.

Just in this second, he reached out, grabbed her shirt and sent her to the ground. He couldn't control his full speed run and stumbled across her, landing on the ground as well. Most of the others had reached them already, it was now or never.

In a knee-jerk reaction, she drew her dagger, twisted the stumbled boys arm and drew him up with her, holding the dagger at his throat. It felt like she had done that a thousand times before, though she had no idea when and where she had trained it. Anyway, she couldn't care less, because that move impressed and all of them stepped backwards.

But what should she do? She didn't have a clue, she had been focussed on escaping. Where was she?

An awkward silence aroused while they were staring at each other. The boy she held captured tried to move, but her grip was tight and with a twisted arm he didn't have much choice.

What should she do now? Feverishly she tried to think, but her mind was black. She had no idea, so they continued to stare at each other and she analysed the situation. There were around 40 boys, and when she said boys, she meant boys. She was the only girl around. Neither one of the faces looked familiar nor did it ring a bell. Their clothes were worn-out and dirty, their overall appearance neglected as if they had more important tasks at hand.

Finally, someone pushed his way through the gathering. When the last boys stepped aside, he made a few steps in front of the others.

"Welcome to the glade, greenie." He said and she didn't trust her ears.

Did he really say 'Welcome to the glade, greenie.'? Or did her ears fool herself? He must see the distrust inside her eyes and made a calming gesture.

"Where am I?" She tightened the grip on the boy.

"Nowhere good." The guy in the front answered and from the tone of his voice she could hear the resignation and frustration he felt. This wasn't promising at all.

"That isn't exactly a helpful answer." In a threatening gesture she moved the knife.

He made another calming gesture. "Just quieten down and relax. We don't want to harm you."

She wasn't exactly sure if he realised how incredible ridiculous that sounded. She had woken up in a pit, in a cage in addition. Had been called a 'scorcher'. Boys, not one girl. How on earth should she think that they wouldn't harm her?

Her gaze focussed at the boy in the front, he was among the oldest. Tall, muscular, red-haired. A tad over-trained in her opinion. She looked into his brown, almost black eyes.

"Name's Nick." If the situation wouldn't have been so critical, she would have laughed. She was close to getting hysterical. Abruptly everyone around looked at him, back at her, back at him. Finally they ended looking at her.

"Émilie. Je m'appelle Émilie." Where did that come from? Did she speak French? She remembered her name, but she couldn't recall much more else. As a result they looked at her as if she were an alien. What most probably hit the nail on the head from the boy's POV. Being a girl and speaking French.

Nick must have noticed the puzzled look on her face and made another soothing move. "We all have been in this situation. We all have arrived the way you did."

And they were still here, what a great perspective. She checked them once again. They were approximately between 12 and 17 years old.

"Name's Alex." He pointed on the boy she held captive.

Holding him captive seemed to make no sense anymore. Nick had a soothing effect on her and they appeared to be prisoners as well as she was. Without really noticing it, she lowered her knife and loosened her grip. Alex seized his chance and stepped beside Nick.

"Which keeper's going to get her?" One wanted to know and by the discussions arousing, she concluded that this was an important matter.

"No one's gonna get me!" She interjected, almost shouting. To emphasize her words, she pointed with her knife in the brief direction from where the voice came. It had the effect that they died away.

"Well, that's not like it sounded." Nick tried to explain.

What had happened? Why was she where she was? WHO was she? What about her identity? For most of her questions they wouldn't have answers.

"I can't remember anything." was all she could think of.

"She has a strange accent." They started to whisper among each other. "Where does she come from?" "What is she doing here?"

"That's enough." Nick called for order once again, not very successfully this time. Turning back to her, he continued. "We have all gone through this. It'll take one or two days and you'll feel better."

What an inspiring idea, that made her day. Maybe there was at least one question they could answer this time. "Where am I? I mean, what about this place."

Nick stepped closer and patted her shoulder. "On the glade, we call ourselves the gladers. Come on, I'll show you around. It is still early in the morning."

With a slight pressure he directed her out of the forest while shooing the bystanders "Back to daily routine."

Though they grumbled and grumped, they obeyed and toddled of. He must have earned a lot of respect and authority since she seemed to be the sensation of the day.

"Now", he grabbed her arm when the last ones had left. "What does this mean?"

She looked him straight in the eye and didn't flinch a bit, he had to believe her. "I don't know."

"Listen closely. You are the first girl arriving here after one years. You are armed and have a message written on your arm." He spoke every word of the next sentence articulately, he was deadly serious. "There HAS to be something behind it."

His whole body language told her that she would live to rue it if she lied. "I wish I'd know it myself."

Obviously, much to her surprise, he believed her. With the most shirty expression he turned. "Come on, let's get started." He must have done this many, many times before. His warm, deep voice was like a monotone monologue she couldn't and wouldn't interrupt. The effect was too smoothing.

They started their way around and soon she realised how incredible ridiculous her idea of escaping had been. The compound was completely surrounded by walls, too high and too smooth to climb. There were four gates which opened with an earpiercing noise just the moment they started their guided tour and Nick mentioned the maze and dangers lying behind them. Not that she had the ambition to examine it any time soon. First of all she had to adapt to the situation before she tried anything. The doors closed every evening at the same time, he added.

Great, she was trapped in a giant test laboratory and she was the guinea pig. Maybe they should have put her in the maze as the prize the gladers had to find. Should have doubled the motivation. Something with the experimental set-up was definitely off.

Everything one needed to survive was there. There was a supply coming weekly and every month accompanied by a newbie. This time she was the newbie, the first girl and even armed. While he explained her all this, he started to introduced to her the others.

First of all, she met the boy she had knocked out.

"Name's Past." He introduced himself.

He was taking it far less seriously than she had feared. He appeared to be a very gentle and sympathetic guy. In his eyes reflected his intent and attentive mind, he was tall and lean. In summary: he was her type and she felt awfully sorry that she had hurt him.

By the stare he sent her when they greeted each other appropriately, she knew that she had been forgiven already. How long on earth hadn't they seen a girl? Not to mention one with female attraction .

"Hi, name's Émilie." She greeted while inspecting him. As he had taken of his shirt, she could see the red spot where her elbow had hit him. Surely it would turn blue the next day. In addition he had nasty laceration on the back of his head, he must have hit a stone falling backwards.

Émilie felt even worse. Contritely, she looked directly at him. His eyes were of an incredible blue, she couldn't avert her eyes. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to harm you. I was scared waking up, not knowing where I was. I didn't mean it personally."

"No offence. It has stopped bleeding already." He turned and showed her the wound.

She bit her lip and rose on her toes to have a better look. The cut was rather long and dehisced. "It looks like it has to be stitched."

"Yeah, emergency is just around the next corner." Nick said.

"No, she is standing right in front of you." Émilie didn't know where it came from, and both of them stared at her.

"Explain." Nick demanded.

"There is a white box with a red cross on it, it came with me. And I know how to treat it."

"The tour is ended." Nick grabbed Émilie`'s wrist. "Past, get Alex, bring the white box over to the homestead."

Nick headed towards a come-down house, dragging Émilie behind him while she protested. "Hey, what's all of a sudden?"

He stopped so abruptly, that she almost bumped into him. "If you think you can fix this", he pointed vaguely in the direction Past went. "Then I know why you are here."

He was like a drowning man clutching at a straw. All of a sudden, the routine, resignation and slight huffiness had made place for an agitation she hadn't noticed in him before.

Well, he must have a reason for his doing, Émilie thought and followed him without further protest.

He hurried to the skew-whiff dump he had called 'homestead' in a moment of megalomania. Émilie decided that he either needed glasses or a serious reality check. He was already ahead of her and she had to sprint to close up to him.

Unconventional he opened the door by kicking it in, it dangled dangerously in its hinges and for a second Émilie thought the construction wouldn't withstand the force he had used. He didn't hesitate for a second and headed to the first door to the right.

When he opened the door, he remained in the entrance and Émilie had to stand on her tiptoes to sneak a peak of the room. It was a small room, very light which she hadn't expected from the fragile design. On a second thought the many cracks made the small window unnecessary.

"This is one of our runners." He stepped aside and she saw a guy lying in the only bed in the room. He was lying on his back and stubbornly looking against the opposite wall, deliberately ignoring his surroundings.

His figure was oddly familiar to her, but she had only eyes for his leg. It was broken several times, in one spot she could even see the bone. The facture was still fresh and dilettante treated. If he was a runner, his career was over. There was no chance for a full recovery.

If he wanted to walk again, she had to do something about it. Though a limp would remind him till the end of his life of the accident.

"The greenie is here. Big surprise: It's a girl this time." Nick addressed him, he didn't even flinch.

He must be utterly devastated and Èmilie stepped into the room, deciding to take the initiative. "Hi, name's…"

With her first words, he turned his head. He stared wide-eyed at her and the words stuck in her mouth. She felt a coldness grabbing for her heart, she was standing right in front of an abyss. She knew him. Indeed, he was the reason she was here.

She whispered before one of them could continue. "Name's Newt."

Author's notes:

The name for my original character is picked from Émilie du Châtetet, a historic person, just couldn't resist the tempting idea. I am sure I am not the first one who came up with it. Of course she can look after herself. Newt needs someone independent who looks after him.

And well, I had several ideas, but this is the one I liked most.

Would be nice to leave a review if you like the basic idea. Concerning my English: I know, I am working on it.


	2. Chapter 2 - The Occupation

Author's notes:

Obviously, Émelie has to leave before Thomas arrives – don't like to alter the original too much. Good joke, I know. I am writing a fanfic…

About her skills: there is a reason for them, will be explained sometime later. She is not 'Superwoman' though it might appear so – in the beginning.

Have some stereotype fanfic-scenes in here.

One warning: there is more than one OC in this fic and I have the tendency to have them murdered.

Since this is a Mara Amber fanfic, you'll have to endure Nick Cave's lyrics at the beginning of each chapter. Sorry.

Alex: Alexander Fleming

Past: Louis Pasteur

Nick: mentioned in book 1 by Alby

Willi: Gottfried Wilhelm Leibniz (picked because of Émelie du Châtelet)

 **DECEPTION**

 **Chapter 2- The Occupation**

 _She was given to me to put things right  
And I stacked all my accomplishments beside her  
Still I seemed so obsolete and small  
I found God and all His devils inside her  
In my bed she cast the blizzard out  
A mock sun blazed upon her head  
So completely filled with light she was  
Her shadow fanged and hairy and mad  
Our love-lines grew hopelessly tangled  
And the bells from the chapel went jingle-jangle  
_  
 _Do you love me?_

 _(from: 'Do you love me?'_ _Part1 by Nick Cave)_

Both, Nick and Newt, stared at her with disbelief. She couldn't explain where it came from and a little helpless she shrugged her shoulders.

Frowning Newt looked at her, she noticed that he somehow recognised her, but he struggled with the name. If he had arrived in the same condition she had been in, that was no wonder.

Especially since she assumed that they hadn't been as thorough with her as with the others. Her departure hadn't been planned in advance and was connected with overhasty preparations and ill-conceived ideas, so much she remembered.

She had never been one to take things personally, went to the bed and kneeled beside it. "Name's Èmelie."

He raised a little smile. "Appears you know me. Name's Newt indeed."

She smirked in return. "Seems you left an impression."

His smile brightened. "Yes, kinda have that effect."

Though he had an odd accent, she understood him perfectly, she seemed to be used to it. She met his smile with an evenly bright one.

All of a sudden, Nick's presence got distractive. The atmosphere got so intense that she pointed to his leg, just to deviate her. "I am here to treat you. What happened?"

The way he evaded her look told her that he didn't want to talk about it "It was an accident." He mumbled and she had a hard time understanding him.

"How long ago?"

"Yesterday evening."

That wasn't too long. If he got immediate treatment, there was a chance of full recovery. "I'll take a closer look and see what I can do."

She wanted to rise, but he grabbed her wrist, stopping her. "Émelie?"

"Yes?"

"Be honest." This time she could tell that his smile hid his fear.

Never in her life she had been one to keep quiet about things. She was known for putting it bluntly, to the point of being rude if the situation demanded it. "Of course."

With Nick by her side, she gave the fraction a close inspection. The open fraction was clean and would be easy to straighten . She made a mental note about the absence of flies which appeared unnatural to her. An infection was likely since it had happened the evening before. She could see that they had tried to keep it aseptic, however it was hopeless under the given circumstances. The second fraction was another matter.

A strand of hair kept falling into her face and she blew it away. Stubbornly it kept falling back. Unnerved she pulled the hairpin out of her hair, letting the thick, auburn hair fall over her back.

While she told the outcome of her examination, she gathered it again and secured it in a second, tighter bun. "Well, you'll be able to walk again. Might be that a limp remains, can't promise that. But we need to do it as soon as possible. Is it ok with you?"

Newt didn't hesitate one second. "The sooner, the better."

"Fine." She clapped her hands. "Let's get started."

Right on cue, accompanied by a rumpling and clattering, Alex and Past arrived with the chest .

"I'll look for an anaesthetic." She turned and opened the chest Alex and Past had set down at the footboard.

 _She had known what was awaiting her. Hastily she had cobbled the essentials together and put it to the things already lying in the chest. Anaesthetic. Germicide. Aseptic gloves. Needle. Thread. Syringe. A splint._

She opened the chest and felt another cold grip on her heart. It had been ransacked. With one look she could tell that most of the stuff she had packed was missing. She wasn't one to give up so easily, maybe something had been overlooked.

One of the first things she found was a needle and threat, they were at the very bottom, but they were far from being sterile. Without further circumstances she handed them to Past with the instruction to cook it for 30 minutes and leave the rest to her. The last thing they needed was a superinfection.

She checked the content of the box more systematically. Once. Where was the anaesthetic? Twice. There were syringes filled with a green liquid she didn't know, and it was not the anaesthetic. The syringes weren't even labelled. Completely useless stuff without labelling.

Frantically she ransacked the chest a third time. This time she checked every single syringe. Nothing. Nothing that was of use for her task at hand, nothing that would help Newt. Someone wanted him to suffer. Or someone wanted her to extemporise. Maybe both points applied considering the task of this place.

Meanwhile, another guy who introduced himself as 'Name's Alby.' had arrived and suddenly the small room felt crowded. Still, she needed everyone to assist her.

She had to deliver the bad news and faced Newt. "I have to do it the old-fashioned way. Without anaesthetic."

"Go on and get it done." He nodded his consent a tad grumpily. The sooner he was over the hump, the better.

"Do you have hard liquor?" Émelie asked Nick.

"Yes, Frypan has some stored."

"Get some." She stopped Nick on the way out. "And we need something he can bite on. A small branch." He nodded while leaving.

She kneeled beside Newt's bed and felt stupid while explaining everything to him, he wasn't a little child. But she had the impression that he felt better while she talked. "You'll get some alcohol and something to bite on. Drink. And bite on the wood. Don't need an additional injury. I'll be as fast as I can."

His face was so close and appeared so lost, she oppressed the urge to take him into her arms, to ruffle his hair, to tell him it would be fine.

"Promise to be fast." Was all he said while his face had turned white.

"Promised." she settled on gently squeezing his hand instead of him. He twitched slightly and hissed. Getting attentive, she squeezed his hand a second time, observing him closely. He was trying to hide it, but he was in pain.

"Hold your hand up like this." She demanded while showing him.

"Émelie, really..." The way he pronounced her name was tempting, but she interrupted him, staring at him with her most intimidating expression.

"Hold it up, it is injured." She could swear that Nick was suppressing a smile while Newt complied with a shirty expression.

"Move your fingers like this."

He had no problems to imitate it.

"Now turn your hand like this." With a pained face he had to stop and she took his hand, twisting it while observing him closely. When his features showed the first signs of pain she stopped.

"What can you do about it?" He wanted to know.

"We'll bandage the wrist to bolster it, under normal conditions I'd tape it. Might be best you do it for ever." She let go of his hand.

Shocked, he looked at her. "Like in 'till the end of my life?"

"As far as I am concerned you may continue in afterlife." Hadn't she been clear enough? His slightly pissed look made her think about her comment. She had to sell it to him in a positive way. "It is of advantage in combat too. A wrist is always a weak point." He seemed to accept the reasoning, he settled back and Émelie turned to Alex.

"Alex, can you organise two boards?" She pointed to Newt's heels and the upper end of his thigh. "They have to be this long. Approximately one centimetre thick and ten centimetres wide. Take a hard wood, no spruce or similar and cut it to the size I told you."

"How long is a centimetre?"

She just stared at him. Excellent, never heard of the metric system? "Seriously? Do I look like a conversion table? About this." She showed him the measurements with her fingers.

She noticed Alex throwing a glance at Newt who just nodded and said: "Ask Gally. He'll help you."

Last she addressed Alby. "Get me some fresh, cold water, hot water and as many dispensable cloths and clothes you can get. Tore the cloths into pieces with about 10 centimetres width. And cook them for 30 minutes ditto." Another lost look and Émelie resigned, showing the measurement with her fingers.

She turned to Newt. "We'll start as soon as they are back. Meanwhile, I'll clean my hands and arms. You do have soap, don't you?"

"Of course", Newt was filled with indignation and explained her the way to the washroom.

She was very thorough with washing and when she came back, all were gathered in the small room with the demanded equipment. Newt had already drunken a quarter of the bottle, and judging from his expression that would suffice.

On a second thought a bucket was a good idea. Just in case he vomited. Her glance fell on a rubbish bin in the corner. Without circumstances Past, who appeared to be a thought-reader, dumped the content of the bucket on the ground. In common understanding they nodded at each other, he knew what to do. Great minds think alike.

She started with the wrist, it was easily done. Next she addressed Alby who appeared the strongest and heaviest boy around. "You need to fix his injured leg at any cost. I don't care how you do it, just do it."

The others she instructed likewise "You see that his other leg, arms and whatever else he can move, can't move. Got it?"

"Newt, you overhead everything?" She asked him.

"Yes." He had problems to articulate and she took it as an approval to start.

She took one of the torn, boiled out cloths to secure her hair. The last thing she needed was a hair in an open wound.

The four boys were helping and assisting her, handing her the utensils she demanded.

They did their job perfectly, so that she could concentrate on aligning the bone and sewing the wound. When she was finished, she bandaged the torn, boiled-out cloths rather tight around Newt's foot and leg along with the boards in the hope that it lasted a while. They would have do repeat it several times anyway, the cloths were a poor replacement for self-adhesive gauze bandages, not to mention the wooden boards that replaced more professional splints.

Pleased she wiped her hands on her white shirt and took the cloth out of her hair while the boys had stopped fixing Newt after the critical part. Past had already vanished with the bucket, so it had been used. "Thanks for your assistance."

"May I get up?" Newt's face was chalky white and he was covered with cold sweat. Obviously, the alcohol had been overlain with pain. They were lucky that he hadn't passed out.

"With crutches, you may try as soon as you dare to." She threw another glance in his chalky white face. Tomorrow was likely.

"Can you send someone to take care of making them?" She asked into the round.

Nick nodded. "Send Gally. He is good with this."

Looking at the house, she had justified doubts, but the splints he had made were perfect. "Fine."

Everyone left, except for Past who was the next patient and Newt for an obvious reason. She needed only two stings to sew the laceration, it felt like a piece of cake. "Thanks." He said before he turned to leave the room.

"Watch out while washing and combing your hair." It occurred to her that in this place a perfect hairstyle wasn't the most important part of the day, maybe the instruction was unnecessary.

Without bothering to turn, he held a thumb up.

In the meantime she spotted Gally and waved him in.

"Hello again. Alex said that you want something from me." He was all smiles, but she had to disappoint him.

"Yes, Newt needs crutches. Can you make some?" he kept his bright attitude and she had the impression that he enjoyed the fact that he could be of help.

He ruffled his short-cut hair. "Depends. What are they supposed to be like?"

"Here." She picked a paper and drew a sketch. "From his armpits to his feet. Would be perfect to make them a little longer down here. So we can fit them in the end."

He took the paper. "Consider it done. Come later and bring them."

When he left, she was finally alone with Newt and an awkward silence rose, while they eyed each other until she averted her gaze and busied herself. "Gotta clean up the mess." and picked up the remaining cloths.

"Thank you. Without you I'd be crippled and lying in this room forever."

"It was a matter of course. I knew how to do it."

Another silence arose and she pretended to clean up, rearranging the content of the box from left to right and back until he asked the question she had awaited.

"How do you know me?"

With a shrug of her shoulders, she turned to him, a small smile on her lips. "Honestly, I don't know. Your name came to my mind, I realised that you are the reason I was sent here. And your presence feels familiar."

"Same with me…"

"Hi again, here is the first version." Gally came in and interrupted. "Need to measure the length."

"That was fast indeed." Émelie wondered.

"Yes, we had branches lying around suiting the purpose perfectly." He shrugged his shoulders, indicating that such tasks were an implicitness for him which he solved with ease.

"Thanks so much." She smiled at Gally who beamed with pride. "Come on, Newt. I'll help you stand up, so Gally can take measurements. Just don't strain your broken leg and stabilise on me."

The procedure wasn't as easy as she had thought. But in the end, Gally was happily leaving and Newt was back sitting on the bed. If someone would have told her about today yesterday, she would have declared him for insane.

Newt had problems with his outstretched leg. "Can't we shorten the splints?"

Resolutely she shook her head. "No way. We need to stabilise your leg over your knee and thigh, otherwise your movements might shift your bones. Three weeks, then we'll shorten it. Three more weeks and we can take it off."

"Great." His expression was betraying his words.

Consoling words like 'You'll get used to it.' wouldn't help, he was aware of it himself.

Now, with calm returning, she noticed that she wasn't in the best condition herself. Her shirt and skirt adhered to her and had blood stains on them. On top, she had collywobbles, she had to do something about it. "I need a shower and fresh clothes. Anything available?"

"Shower is over there. Best you ask Alby and Nick to watch over you. Fresh clothes are a problem. Take these until yours are ready." He pointed to a shirt and trouser lying on the ground. "I don't need them at the moment anyway."

She inspected the trousers, holding them with two fingers. One leg was cut from bottom to top, and sceptically she raised an eyebrow.

At last she had made him laugh and a tad sheepish he explained "Well, somehow they had to get me out of them."

The other piece was a formerly white shirt with long sleeves and a hood. When she hold it, it barely covered her bum. She sniffed at it, it hadn't been washed for some indefinite time. Alone for the reason to see his brazen smile deepen, she would wear it.

"Ok, that will do it for now." Her reward followed hard on her words.

Not much later, she stood under the hot shower, enjoying the drops running down on her face and neck. Finally, her tensed muscles started to relax. She had abstained from asking Nick and Alby. As soon as she admitted that she needed someone to look after her with something trivial as having a shower, she admitted that she couldn't look after herself. The last thing she needed were some overprotective boys around her. And everyone peeping at her would live to rue it. She wasn't prudish and for sure she wasn't prissy. Knowing to heal means knowing to hurt vice versa.

She looked for a towel, but there was none handy and railing against herself she slipped the shirt over her wet body. It was a tad shorter than initially suspected and she would have to dress her skirt beneath it, even when it was still wet. A hair-dryer was missing likewise, so she left her hair open to dry on air.

Before she started to wash her clothes, she searched the pockets out of an old habit and put her hands into the skirt pockets. Electrified she pulled them out. There was a paper in them! Was it explaining her situation? With trembling hands she pulled it out and unfolded it.

 _Made the deal. Establish the connection. You go out when we trigger the end._

This wasn't her handwriting, and another memory clicked into place.

 _A dark haired boy, deadly serious, a furtive meeting, a hushed tone. "I couldn't get him out, but I found a way to get you in. He has to make it out there on his own. Make sure that he is able to. Leave the rest to me."_

To some point that made sense to her. She was here to help Newt, he was meant by the dark haired boy. But what was the deal? Which connection was meant? How much time did she have? When was the so-called end triggered? One question answered and four new ones aroused. She surrendered. In due time the questions would answer themselves. At least she hoped so. She stuffed the message into the holster of her knife and strapped the holster with two belts on her right thigh.

It was the perfect time to check the knife and she pulled a hair out. Lying it on the blade and it was cut in two pieces. The knife was as sharp as a razorblade. Not that she had doubted it, but better be safe than sorry.

She washed her clothes and placed the shirt into the sun. It was hopeless to get the blood-stains out, she would have to live with them.

Afterwards she looked for Nick, she felt like starving. Nick sent her into the kitchen with the permission to pick up some food since it wasn't mealtime anytime soon. Next was Dinner and it was only early in the afternoon.

On the way back to Newt with her preys, she ate half of the meal. When she reached the surgery, Gally had already been there and brought the crutches. Newt was trying to get up.

"Best wishes for recovery from Frypan. Gave me some cookies as if they were made of gold."

Newt was just staring at her in an irritating way. "What's wrong?" she wanted to know.

"Nothing. Only that Frypan coughed them up. He is stingy with them."

She laughed and bat her eyelids. "Must have been my charms."

"Bloody joke." A mischievous glint appeared in his eyes.

"Well, there was a little persuasiveness involved." She admitted, remembering how she had insisted that Newt needed special treatment for recovery and that his favourite food would add to the effect.

"Sounds more realistic." He replied dryly.

Émelie pouted, standing with her hands on her hips. "No trust in my skills?"

"Depends. Try me." The smirk appearing around his lips was killing her.

"Émelie?" Nick stood in the doorframe, interrupting the moment and looking her up and down. At least he spared her a comment.

"Yes?"

"Need to resume our round. Ready?"

"Yep." There was no need for her to tell Newt to eat, he was already tucking the meal in.

By now she had seen most of the glade, only the blood-house and the rules she was introduced to were new to her.

In the end, Nick handed her a sleeping bag, offering her a separate room which she refused instinctively. Getting special treatment wasn't a good way to earn respect and to stand on your own feet.

They were still in the house, when Nick blocked her way out by propping him against the wall with one hand. "One thing though."

The hand was right beside her face, this was grave. "Yes?" she craned her neck and met his stare equally.

"Don't cause any trouble."

"Do I look like trouble?" She pouted and bat her eyelids, very well knowing that it had no effect on him.

He got the point and snorted scornful. "You are a troublemaker. I can tell."

He didn't need to threaten her with consequences, they would follow. "I'll do my best." But she wouldn't change her personality.

"Excellent." He replied dryly, before he left for his daily chores. It was crystal clear that he didn't believe her one word.

At first it seemed as if she could relax the rest of the day, but soon Gally asked her to check on one of his boys.

Émelie told him to send the boy to the surgery since she had cloths left and went herself over to the room. When she entered, Newt was already gone. So he was practising, a good sign in her eyes.

Only a little later Gally arrived along with the boy and Émelie supressed the urge to cuddle the slight build boy who was among the youngest of the group. His ruffled red hair and freckles in combination with his frightened and lost look made him adorable in her eyes. He was far too young and sensitive to be here and she credited Gally with looking after him.

"Hi, I am Émelie. May I help you?"

"Name's Willi." He answered in a low voice.

"What is wrong?"

"My wrist hurts." He was on the verge of bursting into tears, an embarrassment she wanted to spare him in front of Gally.

She picked the last cookie from Newt's plate and ruffled Willi's hair. "Here. This one's for you." His expression brightened already. "You may eat it while I look after your wrist."

Since he was enjoying his cookie he just nodded. He had a minor sprain, a little bandage would suffice. The psychologic effect shouldn't be underestimated.

While she tied the wrist, Gally got noisy. "Isn't that Newt's shirt you're wearing?"

The next one looking her up and down in a funny way or asking this question got a serious answer she swore. Hopefully her own clothes were dried soon. "Yes, got a problem with it? We exchanged."

"No, looks great on you." The hasty answer proved that he had noticed that she was hopping mad about the matter.

Willi got a cordial hug and a kiss on the forehead from Émelie before he left along with Gally. Only a few minutes later, the next one showed up.

Until dinnertime, one patient after the other came for minor treatments and she had gotten all hands full. The afternoon proved that a table was lacking in the room and she would ask for one. Maybe Gally was skilful enough to make one.

When finally the bell for dinner rang, she had seen every little injury she could think of and she was relieved to get something to eat and drink.

Dinner was perfect, Frypan was a good cook and she enjoyed it after the strenuous day. The seating arrangements were no problem. Nick simply put her on his and Alby's table, she suspected that this was the best way to keep her under close observation. Newt came a little later, sitting down with them, he could handle the crutches quite well by now. Somehow he had managed to patch his trousers over his broken leg. He would have to get used to it, considering that they would have to renew the bandages several times.

Soon after dinner it was getting dark and a fire was lit in the glade. All attendees gathered around, obviously it was the time to socialize. It wouldn't hurt to take part, so Émelie got out of the surgery where she had started to examine the green liquid with the limited equipment handy.

They all fell silent for a second, but the drums – converted buckets, boxes and anything else that could be used - continued almost immediately. Well, that had to be expected. She looked for familiar faces, Newt wasn't around and she settled on Past who promised the most fun, he was already tapping his feet to the rhythm.

"Hi, fugleman. Enjoying a night out?"

He was far too handsome to be real and the way he smirked was something she could die for. "Appears that part just starts."

"And where do we start?" coquettishly she looked up to him.

"The usual tour?" he raised one eyebrow in a suggestive way.

"Surprise me." Her smirk matched his.

"Music and dancing is right over there." He made a move to lay an arm around her shoulder and pointed on the drummers, she made a move to evade his arm. His eyes averted to her admittedly plunging neckline, she hadn't bothered to close the buttons. " I'd suggest Frypan and his cocktail-bar first. For the mood." His eyes promised a little more than just 'the mood' and she decided to act a tad more aloof. She liked to flirt, she liked the attention, but he was definitely too fast.

"Wanna try?" she turned to look for the reason of the interruption. Much to her relief, Gally had appeared, offering a bottle to her while he stared at Past.

It wouldn't hurt to try though Émelie was suspicious because of the dirty and devious grin in his face. With a killing glance she accepted and took a smell at the bottle. The smell coming from the bottle was intense, it was hard liquor, based on apples. The same stuff Newt had had in the morning, most likely they didn't have anything else.

She took a little mouthful and closed her eyes to concentrate on the taste. Indeed, apple. A sort of Calvados, she could almost see the great plantation, one apple-tree behind the other. The huge barrels, filled with apple- must, waiting to be fermented. It tasted like home, the taste wasn't as round as she was used to, but it was edible. This was definitely a part of her past. She took a second mouthful a little less careful as the first time.

She opened her eyes and realised that she hadn't met Gally's expectations. Somehow he had counted on another reaction. "Great stuff, really. Thanks."

Past met her with disbelief. "How could you drink this swill?"

She wouldn't exactly call it swill but before she could answer, Gally butted in.

"Frypan experiments. That's his second charge, should have tried his first one." Gally squinched up his face.

"Newt's coming!" Someone shouted and all turned to watch Newt hobbling with the help of his crutches over the glade. "Go, Newt, go!" "Good to have you back." They padded his back and greeted him, being truly happy to have him back.

Again, it was only a short interruption, the drums set in once more, some started to sing and the party continued.

Newt hobbled over to them and Émelie hugged him warmly. "Good to see you here."

"Left me no chance. Without you I'd be still lying in this shabby room."

"Don't put me off my surgery." Playfully she lifted a finger.

Muttering under his breath, Gally left them while Frypan came over with a mischievous grin all over his face. He had kept one of his hands behind his back and now he was revealing what he had been hiding. Another bottle. "You three want a drink?"

Newt's and her answer was a tad more impulsive and enthusiastic than Past's. "Yes."

They settled behind a trunk and let the bottle rotate while they shared anecdotes about most of the boys with Émelie. When the bottle was finished and Frypan left to get a second, softer drink she felt like she had been around for an eternity. Was it really her first day?

"The shirt suits you." Newt said out of the blue and she wanted to sink into earth out of shame. The day had been so busy, she had completely forgotten about it.

She turned her head about to tell him that she'd give it back later when she noticed that he had directed it at Past accompanied by a killing glance out of the corner of his eyes.

"Anything suits you." Replied Past while laying an arm on the trunk, almost on Émelie's shoulders. She turned her head to the other side and noticed Past's equally deadly glance.

It was the kind of way guys stared at each other to say 'Keep your hands off. She is mine.' Most likely this was the situation Nick had meant with causing trouble. She needed a distraction.

"Who are they?" She nodded in the brief direction of two boys standing aside, keeping to themselves as if they were special.

"They are runners." Past answered with a strange mixture of admiration and sympathy in his voice while Newt kept oddly silent.

"Runners?" Émelie wondered, wasn't this the same occupation Newt had until his accident? Still, she had the impression that this wasn't the right time to ask Newt about it. He remained silent.

"Yes, every morning, as soon as the gates open, they explore the maze and make a map."

"Every day?"

"Yes, every single day, they are doing this."

She didn't have to ask. If they had found a way out, they wouldn't be here any longer. Maybe the experimental set-up wasn't as poor as she had thought.

She took a closer look at them. The Asian boy was attractive as well as the other one, but both not after her fancy. But how on earth did he manage to keep his hair so neatly? She hadn't seen any mirror around, not to speak of hair wax. Her hair was always messy even with a mirror around, the bun was a stopgap.

"Wanna dance?" Past suddenly asked, offering her a hand.

She didn't like the look he furtively sent at Newt, knowing well that Newt wouldn't be able to take part. It was definitely a reason to refuse the offer.

Much to her surprise, Newt shooed them away. "Just go."

She threw a sceptical glance at him, but Newt was looking the other way. The rhythm was too tempting as well as Past's hand. In the second she accepted the invitation, she had regrets. Past's triumphant glance at Newt didn't go unnoticed by her.

Still, tt was fun, to give in to the rhythm, to feel it, to let go of everything. Émelie noticed how stressed she had been and she felt how she started to feel free. Supported by the drums she could dance until she was in ecstasy like everyone around her.

But what about Newt? When she looked at him, she caught him red-handed, staring at her in way that made her feel like having butterflies in her stomach. He averted his gaze, turning to Frypan who had returned in the meantime, but he hadn't been fast enough. Minho and Ben had joined them, the bottle making a round again. Past was lost in the rhythm and wouldn't notice her leaving.

She couldn't help, she was drawn to Newt like moths to the flame. She walked over to the four, settled on Newt's right side on purpose and shared the second bottle with them. The feeling when Newt brushed against her when passing the bottle, their fingers almost brushing against each other while they shared a short, intense look was thrilling, her whole body was tingling with excitement.

Minho caught her with one of these exchanges and raised the bottle to toast to her. "Thanks for helping Newt."

"No big deal. Accidently I was in the right place at the right time." She loosened the shoelaces of her black army boots and took them off, her footsies followed. They were getting uncomfortable, she loved walking barefoot.

"We have come a long way, he is my best friend." Minho's friendly words had a menacing tone, she understood that he wouldn't forgive her if she hurt him.

Newt did have some friends caring for him in this strange place, she had to stop fooling around. She should make a statement, take a stand. The sooner the better.

She turned to Newt, he accepted the challenge, they looked each other deeply in the eyes, they moved closer to each other while Minho, Ben and Frypan stared at them with a rather shocked expression. When they almost touched, they both couldn't hold on anymore and burst into laughter. The faces the other three made were priceless.

"I can understand it." She couldn't stop laughing while ruffling Newt's hair under his half-hearted protest, Minho observed it with satisfaction. It was the moment she decided to trust Minho and to speak alone with him in a more convenient place.

She wished that the evening never ended while she listened to them, from time to time throwing in a comment, laughing about the stories they told.

Too soon the fire was burnt down what seemed to be the signal to fetch the sleeping bag and lay down somewhere on the ground.

When she was lying in her sleeping bag, right between all the boys, she bit her lip. So many things had happened today and she still had to figure out what they meant.

' _Subject crossed B, A0, Backup – The balancer_ ' was a complete mystery to her. She knew that it was important, so important that she had insisted to have it written on her arm.

Little did she know how much time she had left and how complex her task was. She clung to her sleeping bag, tears welling in her eyes. 'How much time did she have?' was her last thought before she drifted into sleep, it was the most vital one.

Author's notes:

I know, Newt's recovery is too fast. I was a bit lazy there.

Yes, I know… she is ambivalent.

Next chapter: The Gally-Incident (not what you might think)

Need to work on the animosity between Gally and Newt. And to help Newt discovering his 'green thumb'.


	3. Chapter 3 - The Apprentice

Author's notes:

Sorry, forgot the disclaimers… well, you know that I'm not Dashner and that I'm just borrowing his characters and settings to have some fun.

There won't be any very explicit scenes, though I like to write them. Just can't do this when an actor has already portrayed the character. My imagination runs screaming away…

Update rate is around two weeks for this fic.

This chapter got too long, so I divided it. Therefore, the announced 'Gally-Incident' will occur in Chapter 4.

There are two or three more chapters on the glade, then 'The Scorch Trials' will follow.

 **DECEPTION**

 **Chapter 3 - The Apprentice**

 _Her accent which I'm told is 'broad'  
That I have heard and has been poured  
Into my human heart and filled me  
With love, up to the brim, and killed me  
And rebuilt me back anew  
With something to look forward to_

 _(West Country girl by Nick Cave)_

Early the next morning, Émilie was woken by a relentless tapping and prickling against her back and arm. Being still half asleep, she tried to shoo the disturber away. All she wanted was to sleep a little longer, only a little.

But he was persistent. "Leave me alone." She mumbled and turned away. At least she wanted to turn away. Something hindered her movements considerably. But what was that? She tried to stretch out her legs, when it came into her mind: a sleeping bag! She was lying in a sleeping bag on the so-called glade.

"Émilie! Stand up."

She almost jumped to her feet. The glade! Newt!

"Ready to go?" Newt asked in such a dry tone, which almost made her to chock his mouth with her fist. After the first adrenaline boost the urge faded away and she bundled her sleeping bag together.

"Where are we going?" She renewed her bun, the hairpin had dropped out during the night.

"To the wall. I have to show you something."

Soon they stood in front of the gigantic wall, overgrown to half of its height with ivy. She calculated that it must have taken a few years to reach that height, even though ivy was a fast grower.

Newt was heading to a specific place, pushing the plant aside, revealing a small window. She eyed him questioningly and he made an inviting gesture. Just when she was about to look through the mysterious window, a red light blinded her and she jumped back, almost pushing him over. In the last moment they found their balance.

"What on earth is this?" Her heart was racing while the red light scanned them up and down.

"We call them beetle blades." His expression and bodylanguage spoke volumes about the disdain he felt for the place and its creatures. "They are observing us."

"You mean that we are under observation 24/7?" On second thought this place wouldn't make any sense if they weren't under close observation, she had to admit. The amount of money spent to set this up must have been ridiculous, unbelievable high. One didn't spent so much money at a whim. What was the ulterior motif behind it? The so-called beetle blade vanished as soon as she was within reach to touch it, but she got a glimpse of the letters 'WCKD' on it.

"Yes, once you are used to them, you'll forget about them." He was a tad to negligent when saying it, she could swear that he wasn't accustomed to it. Others might be, but he wasn't, he was aware of what was going on and he was sensitive enough not to forget it.

Newt had propped himself against the wall right beside her and pointed with an inviting gesture to the window. "We call them grievers."

She stepped back, pried through the small window and flinched. The odd combination of flesh and machine parts was repulsive and the despicable purpose was clear. "Whose sick mind came up with such a weird construction?"

"Well, that would be bloody great to know." He cast a glance through the window as well and with a disgusted expression he leaned back. "They are roaming through the bloody maze." He laid a hand on her shoulder, turned her around and looked her straight in the eye. "They are the reason why you stay put in the glade."

As if she was the imprudent type to run headless into a maze, she wasn't as daft as a brush. This was something that needed research and consideration, especially since some of them had explored it for one year and haven't found the exit yet. She laid a hand on his one resting on her shoulder and returned the look. He was deadly serious about it, he had tightened the grip on her shoulder and waited for an answer. Her feather-light touch made him loosen the grip a tad.

"Thanks. The desire for an excursion has passed me." At last on the short term, she thought but didn't say aloud.

They remained longer in the position than the situation justified and for a splint of a moment she meant to see the desire burning inside him. Before she could be sure, he broke the contact, started to head to the homestead and the moment was gone.

"Breakfast time. Nick and Alby will be relieved to hear that you stay inside." He said looking over his shoulder. "They think you're a troublemaker."

She put on her most innocent expression, exaggerating just a little. "I am the most halcyon person walking on this earth. Don't know why they keep on calling me a troublemaker."

"I don't have the foggiest idea what made them think so." He replied dryly while they sat down with the others and savoured the breakfast.

Her only answer was coquettish look and smile. His responding smirk made her feel the butterflies in her stomach again.

Straightway after breakfast, Émilie went to the surgery. The green liquid fret her, there had to be something behind it. Yesterday, she had pestered anyone on the glade who had come across her way for information, no one had had clues or answers.

She had decided to sacrifice one syringe to examine the content. After all, they had come in a medical chest, they had to have a function. Since no other cushy place was available, she sat cross-legged on the ground, a small board before her, a notepad beside her. The situation was oddly familiar and she turned the syringe to observe the viscous liquid running down the glass.

" _Mrs and Mr. du Châtetet, welcome in our institution. It is an honour for us that you decided to move from France and to continue your research together with us. Your pioneering findings are unique."_

 _She was standing behind her parents while the grown-ups exchanged the usual phrases of civility, common among scientists on the same level. Praising the research, the results, the publications and how brilliant they were. In the end her father stepped aside and introduced her._

" _This is our daughter Émilie. Émilie, this is Miss Paige and Mr. Janson."_

 _Her parents spared her the usual 'Say hello, Émilie.'-stuff and Mr. Janson stated without further circumstances "We analysed the data and you are right. She is immune and among the most brilliant kids we tested. We are proud to greet such a promising, highly-potential candidate in our tests and to continue her education as you desired. She is among the oldest, but that hasn't to be a disadvantage." He stepped closer to her parents and lowered his voice, but Émilie had a good hearing. "We managed to find the perfect counterpart for her, the tests don't err."_

 _Émilie had stopped thinking about sentences like these long before. Since her parents had found out that they were infected and how much time they had left, they acted utterly strange. She just did what was expected of her without questioning it._

 _Her parents were overly enthusiastic and were shown their new workstations. They started working immediately, completely forgetting about her and barely noticing that this Mr. Janson led her away in another, more tightly secured part of the complex. She couldn't be angry with them. They were infected and their time was limited to find a cure. Somehow, it filled her with pride that her parents worked with full speed to find the solution and that they were so devoted to their task that they neglected their daughter. Maybe being here among peers was a change for the better._

 _Mr. Janson opened a door with his key-card and they stood in front of a group of young teens and kids sitting in front of consoles, barely looking up on their intrusion. Some of them were of her age, most of them younger._

" _This is Émilie, she is working with your group from now on." Mr. Janson introduced her rather brisk and most of them were turning their attention back on their screens._

 _He left her standing in the entrance and she was alone with all those kids she didn't know. She noticed a boy still looking at her and spotted the last free console right beside him. She headed with smart pace towards it. Nobody should notice her insecurity._

 _She sat down and turned to the blonde-haired boy beside her, whose brown eyes examined her with curiosity. "Hello, Émilie. My name is Newt." His warm smile was well-intentioned and for the first time since the journey began, she felt that it could come to a good end indeed._

The green liquid had long reached the other end of the glass-container, her hand trembled and Émilie blinked several times. This was definitely part of her past, she remembered her parents and she remembered meeting Newt. No breakthrough news, but interesting.

But that was the past, she had more important tasks at hand and she concentrated back at them. She let one drop fall on the wood, no reaction. She tested every little thing that was handy and made sense, all with the same result: no reaction.

"Hi." She had been so absorbed that the greeting made her wince.

Gally stood in the entrance, Willi by his side. "Are we interfering?"

"No, not at all." She rose and straightened her skirt.

"I was wondering if you could take care of Willi. He isn't exactly a builder, you know. And he seems quite fond of you." Gally shoved Willi over the threshold.

Emilie was all smiles, she had the shy boy locked in her heart. "Perfect. He can help me with my research and my pharmacy."

"Pharmacy?" The puzzled look on Gally's face was priceless and she had to laugh.

"Yes. What is definitely lacking here is something at least close to medicine."

Somehow that was beyond his horizon and grumpily he shoved Willi further inside. "He is all yours."

"Sit down here." She pointed to the opposite side of the board and Willi imitated her by sitting cross-legged on the ground.

Gally hesitated, irresolutely remaining at the entrance. "You need a table."

She had completely forgotten to ask for one. "Yes, you are right. That would be great."

"I'll organise you one."

Gally was one of these caring and thinking for themselves guys, who were far too rare. "Thanks, Gally."

Gally left them alone and Émilie turned to Willi. "Now, Willi, at the moment I'm trying to find out what this green liquid is for. Do you have any ideas?"

In the beginning, he was too shy to blurt out his conclusion, she had to encourage him and started with the obvious. "It was in the medical chest, it is filled in syringes. What do you think is its purpose?"

His eyes brightened. "It is a medicine."

"Right. But we don't know if it is for healing or a darker purpose. I wouldn't risk using it, before I have some clues. I put a drop on the board. What do you see?"

Confused he observed the drop closely from all directions before he answered rather insecure. "Nothing."

"Right again. That is an important information. It isn't caustic, at least not much. There is also no smell, meaning that either it doesn't evaporate or is odourless. Every little one of these observations is noted down in this notepad, so that we don't forget about the details." To every one of her explanations he had nodded eagerly.

"What do you suggest? What should we try next?" she challenged him.

He looked strained and patiently she waited for his answer. "We could taste it."

She tipped with the pen against her lips and interposed. "It could be poisonous."

He frowned and thought hard. "Mix it with liquids like water."

"Exellent…."

"Hi, what are you doing?" Newt had appeared in the doorframe and leant casually against it, he must be observing them for some time already. It was becoming a bad habit that anyone came around, leaned in the doorframe and interrupted her.

"We are trying to figure out what this green liquid is supposed for. Willi is my new apprentice."

"Bloody good choice." She wasn't quite sure if he meant Willi for choosing to work with her or if he meant her for choosing Willi.

He remained in the doorframe so this wasn't just a flying visit. "What is it, Newt?"

"I made some progress. Wanna see?" He pointed with his head to the outside, the bold smile promised fun. With this expression on his face, she would have followed him everywhere, the smallest sign of his little finger would suffice. Not that she would admit it aloud.

"Of course. Willi, test everything that comes to your mind and note it down. Just don't come in direct contact with it."

Eagerly, Willi nodded and pleased she logged that he started by making notes. He got by himself, this was his appointment.

She went with Newt in the front of the house. "What do you want to show me?"

Again, his sly glance promised some fun. "We race. Just for the fun of it." He pointed with one crutch to the opposite side of the glade. "Turning point is over there. Finish is here." He drew a line with a crutch in the ground before him.

She eyed him up and down, there was something roguish about him she couldn't resist. Tough she wasn't a fast runner, she had a chance, he had a handicap. "Accepted. "

They took their stance at the line and Émilie started to count. "One, two, three,… go."

Much to her surprise it was a head-to-head race, he was as fast as she was. Only on the way back, she gained a small lead. In the end she arrived quite breathless and let herself drop on the back putting her feet up. Newt threw the crutches aside and fell down beside her, equally putting his feet up. They turned their faces to each other and burst into laughter, his wholehearted laugh made her day. She hadn't seen him this casual and relaxed since she had arrived. It felt familiar as if they had done this a thousand times before.

"That was good." Newt said, gasping for breath.

"You are surprisingly fast." Her pulse was high above the normal level and it didn't get better by looking at him. Luckily her head was already red from running.

"I found a way to use the crutches to push off. I'll try to improve it further." He was determined, that was a good start.

"Just don't practise too much. There won't be a chance for me to catch up with you." She teased him.

All of a sudden he turned serious, a tad too late it occurred to her that this might not the best topic. "I was a runner before the accident."

All his cheerfulness seemed gone, but he had brought the issue up. "Yes, Nick mentioned it. What happened?"

"Wanted to give up the job anyway." He evaded answering her direct question, he wasn't ready to talk about it.

The way he stared into the clouds above didn't please her, it was too gloomy. She propped herself on her arm, plugged a clover-leaf and started to chew on the stipe. "What will you do instead? Do you have plans already?"

"Not yet." Still, he evaded her. He needed a perspective.

"You could help me with my pharmacy. I want to have a little plantation with medicinal herbs. I'll need help besides Willi." She suggested.

"I could try." That wasn't exactly what she called overly enthusiastic, but it was a start.

"About your accident… " She knew that it wasn't wise to bring the topic up again, but she had to get it off her chest.

"Yes?" at least he faced her this time, but the expression in his eyes was the one of a small boy, mortally terrified and frightened, only for a second and his cheerful façade was back. She didn't want to know what he could hide once he perfected this mask.

"I am sorry about it, but this way we could meet again." What had happened that scared him that much? It couldn't have been the grievers. He had ran through the maze for a longer time and he hadn't been scared of the grievers then.

' _He failed. He gave up. His mind is weak.' This sickly voice, mocking her. Full of scorn and derision. The naked spite in his features. He wanted to hurt her and what upset her most was, that he was successful. She had to take the initiative and she had to take it fast._

 _The black-haired boy again. Another meeting, but the same hushed tone. 'Go in and help him. Do whatever is necessary that he DESIRES to make it out of the maze. At any cost. I don't care HOW you manage it, I trust you. Spare me the details.'_

She had to shake her head, the brief memory had been too real, but Newt frowned and looked with that gloomy expression that made her attentive.

"Yes, at least there comes something good out of it." He said under his breath and she blinked a few times to get back on the track of their conversation.

"Newt?" she looked intensely at him.

"Yes?"

"Life is a game made for everyone." She smiled warmly at him and he returned the smile, the butterflies in her stomach returned. She took his hand and squeezed it. "Go on and play it."

His face was so close, being unaware of it, they had to have moved together. He took the clover-leaf out of her mouth. "You know nothing, Émilie."

There was only one person on this earth who could tell her that she knew nothing without consequences and he was right in front of her. She felt his breath on her face, he reached out with one hand and she could fell his warmth on her cheek short before he touched her.

"Émi! Émi!" Willi had gotten into a flap and came running out of the house.

Teeth-gnashing, Émilie turned. Once again her magic moment was ruined. "What is it?"

"I have found something, you HAVE to look at it."

"Fine." She rose, dusted off her clothes and lent Newt a hand to help him stand up. Newt followed them into the surgery and soon Willi and Émilie were sitting cross-legged on the ground while Newt had taken a seat on the bed. The board was between them.

"Now look at this." Willi put two drops of green liquid on the board. "I have tried various things…"

"Come to the point." Newt interrupted Willi rather grumpily.

"Pray continue." Émilie said with a warning glance to Newt. Willi couldn't know that he had disturbed them. He had come with best intention.

"That's the reaction with water." A drop of water intermingled with the liquid and nothing happened.

"And now try blood." Willi suggested with a barely concealed agitation.

Émilie took out her knife and pricked in her finger. A small drop of blood appeared and she squeezed until one drop fell into the liquid. It turned black instantly, before turning back to red.

They exchanged a meaningful glance and Émilie picked up the notepad to look through it. Willi had been thorough and tested nearly everything available. Nothing had shown a reaction. Except the blood that turned black and back to red. She was sure that she had seen nothing like this before. And the discolouration to black didn't look confidence-inspiring.

Newt kneaded his under-lip and looked thoughtfully on the board. "What should we do with this world-shaking news?"

Émilie shot another look at him to tell him to spare them with his cynicism. "At least we know that it is reacting with blood and not with spit or acid."

There was only one logical next step. "We need a more concrete test object. I'll need a pig." Émilie said.

They both stared at her as if she had lost her mind.

"No. You don't." was Newt's immediate answer.

Émilie expressed her disappointment. "We don't have any pigs around? What a pity! They are the closest to humans regarding the metabolism."

"I said 'no, you don't.' I didn't say that we don't have any pigs around. They are part of the basis of existence on the glade and we don't know if this might kill them. And if it is killed this way, we can't eat it. The poison would still be inside." Newt explained.

This was beyond her horizon. There were pigs on the compound and she couldn't use them? "But this is the only way we can be halfway sure if it is a cure or a poison."

"Cut it out, Émilie. You are not going to perform any animal testing. Point."

She was in a gigantic test lab and wasn't allowed to make minor tests? Something was awfully wrong, this was not the final word. "This is a community. Right, Newt? That means it is not up to you to decide. I'll ask Nick for permission, he is the one in charge."

They were staring at each other, the electricity flowing this time was completely different and Willi had taken a step back. She knew she was being unfair and telling Newt directly that he wasn't the one to decide had hurt him. Newt remained seated on the bed with pinched lips while she ran out.

She found Nick rather fast and his first response was an equal blunt "No."

She didn't surrender so easily and pestered him until he gave in to call a gathering of the keepers just to be left alone. So there still was a chance, all she had to do was persuade them of the necessity to test the medicine. A piece of cake! There were reasonable boys among them.

In the afternoon she had to accept, that reasonable was an elastic term. Though she had brought logical and judicious arguments forward, her request was refused. Only two of the keepers had voted for her.

Not that this would stop her, she would have to find another solution. She stormed out of the meeting room, directly to the surgery. She took the opened syringe and held it into the light, turning it and observing the liquid while it floated in the glass container. "Just wait. I'll figure you out sooner or later." Even if she had to test it on herself.

"Émilie?"

She almost dropped the syringe, in the last moment she caught it. "Hi, Past."

"So absorbed in your thoughts?"

"Yes, I am trying to figure out what this is for." She showed him the syringe.

"In for some distraction?" His words and movements were unmistakable and sighing she laid the syringe aside and put a hand on his shoulder to keep him in distance.

She had to clarify it, before it got too complicated. He must have noticed her hesitation because he became a little reserved. "Listen Past. I have to make it clear. I really like you, but I want to keep this on cordial terms with you. I like to tease and to flirt, but we're keeping this on neutral ground. Never ever there will be more than this."

"Understood." The slight disappointment in his voice was undeniable but he didn't seem to take it too seriously. "Friends." He offered her a hand and she accepted it.

He kept the contact a little longer than necessary and she could tell that he hadn't given up the hope to sway her. When he left, he stopped short in the doorframe and said "Hello Newt."

She just knew that this was Past's way of telling her that Newt had overheard their conversation and only a second later Newt stood in the surgery. "You can be really off-putting, you know?" He didn't even disguise his earwigging as well as he didn't hide his satisfaction about what was said.

"Well, that's part of my nature. Better being blunt now than regretting it later. He is kind of perfect, he deserves being treated decently."

"He is kind of perfect?" He raised an eyebrow, suggestively emphasising 'kind of'.

"Yes, it's my pick here." She knew she was cheeky, but if one adjective suited her, it was confident. "And I was never content with the number-two choice. Not once." She couldn't break the eye-contact though it might have been wise as intense as it was.

Willi came rushing into the room. "Can we start with the garden?" And another moment was ruined.

"Sure." She sighed. "Nick told me to ask Past for a place and that's exactly what we three are going to do."

Author's notes:

Next chapter: The Incident


	4. Chapter 4 - The Incident

Author's notes:

This chapter is too long, sorry for that.

Minho is OOC, sorry for that, too.

I realised that it might be interesting to read this fic from Newt's POV. If I am still motivated, I'll write the story from his POV.

 **DECEPTION**

 **Chapter 4 - The Incident**

 _L is for LOVE, baby  
O is for O yes I do  
V is for loving VIRTUE, so I ain't gonna hurt you  
E is for EVEN if you want me to  
R is for RENDER onto me, baby  
M is for that which is MINE  
A is for ANSWERING all of my prayers  
N is for KNOWING your loverman's going to be the answer to all of yours_

 _('Loverman' by Nick Cave, I mixed two parts)_

After a few weeks, Émilie had to acknowledge that it was incredible how many accidents happened in such a manageable community.

She remained occupied, dealing with various injuries while simultaneously teaching Willi the basics. He was very perceptive and empathetic, knowing exactly how to handle the patients. Even for the more complicated ones, he had a suiting way, he had an instinct for this. In other circumstances he would have made the role-model physician once he would have finished his studies.

Among the commonest patients were Frypan and his aides. Cooking seemed to be one of the most dangerous jobs one could do, cuts and scalds were among the top injuries. Émilie made a mental note not to switch into this profession.

The cooks were closely followed by Winston and his boys from the blood-house. Cuts, bits of the farm animals and claw marks were the commonest injuries in this profession. On top of treating the boys, she was appointed as a veterinary surgeon as well. Assisting in the birth of a lamb was something she wasn't anxious to relive.

Not to speak of the builders. Nails, hammers, saws, one didn't need to be a visionary to imagine the various possible ways to get injured. And by now, Émilie thought to have seen every little one of them.

Even the gardeners managed to chop into one of their extremities from time to time. As long it was only with a spade, she could live with it. But the machete Newt and others were using to clear the glade made her a tad nervous, she even considered to make notches in a pole until a serious accident happened.

What puzzled her most was that those with the seemingly most dangerous jobs – the runners – were the ones who hadn't appeared in the surgery. Not once. It had sounded different when Nick had explained to her and didn't fit to the many admonitions not to enter the maze. The only logical explanation was that their injuries were final.

Overall, she wondered how the boys had managed to get around one year without her.

In the meantime, Gally had made her a wooden table and even a stool, they were skew and shaky, but they served the purpose. She didn't have the heart to complain about the minor defects, he had put so much effort into them and had been so proud when he presented her with them.

Past came around from time to time and brought her flowers, she used to put on her desk. His oozing charm was a nice distraction. He wouldn't give up this easily.

After three weeks they had shortened Newt's splints and he was enjoying his new freedom greatly. Now he didn't have to sit with an outstretched leg, had fewer problems to rise and even started to help Past with the garden.

After four weeks another Greenie had arrived and soon the next was to come. To keep track of the time, she made notches in a pole of the surgery. It was easy to get confused with the time, one day passed like the other on the glade. The only variation was the kind of injury she and Willi had to treat.

Soon six weeks had passed since she had arrived on the glade. It was the day they could take off the splints. Newt and Émilie had appointed to meet sharp after breakfast and she had dismissed Willi under the pretext of having to work on some complicated recipes. She was nervous and biting on her under-lip, one of her bad habits. She had to tell him about the message she had found in her skirt on her first day. Secretly she was afraid that her time on the glade had run out once Newt was cured. She wanted to sort things out and to tell him everything she knew before it was too late.

It didn't take long and Newt arrived. "Where is Willi?"

"I gave him a day off." Airily she answered and motioned him to sit down. "Now let's have one last look."

Newt rucked up his trousers. "Can't wait to get rid of this bloody stuff."

She had to smile while she removed the bandages and splints. "I can understand, it was a long time. Now look, the scar is fine." She traced the scar with her fingers, it bulged out and appeared to be a tad too firm. "Best you'll massage it once a day, could be nasty if it ruptures. We should have started earlier."

"Fine. I'll leave the crutches here." The idea was good and she put them in an edge.

He was still sitting on the bed, reluctant to leave and she felt the nervousness coming back. "Newt?"

He eyed her questioningly and she offered "You're still welcome to help me with the garden for the medical herbs. Application is open." This wasn't what she had wanted to discuss in first place. For some reason she had said something different then she had intended to. Today he made her feel nervous and like a little, clumsy schoolgirl.

"Just in case you don't want to go back being a runner." She added hastily, she wouldn't admit it openly, but she was afraid that he refused.

He rose and nodded "I talked with Past already. I'll continue to help him and take special care of your part of the gardens."

He made efforts to leave, but she blocked his way. "I still have to tell you something."

She threw a glance into the antechamber, closed the door with care and pushed the table in front of the door to block it. Since the table was jammed between the bed and the door, nobody should intrude easily.

He had watched her preparations amused, with a raised eyebrow, leaning against the wall, his arms crossed. "Bloody care to tell me what this is about?"

She looked him straight into the eye "Seems I don't want to be interrupted."

He pushed himself off the wall and came the two steps over to her, waiting for her to continue.

She licked her lips briefly before she started. "The day I came to the glade, I had something written on my arm. About subject A0, backup – the balancer."

"Yes, I was told." His concentrated expression was proof that he understood that she wanted to tell him something serious.

"All I remember about this is a blonde girl who promised me to write it down. I have no idea of the meaning and purpose." She waited until he nodded before she continued. "But what nobody knows is that I found a message in my pocket later and I have an idea what this is about. Here it is." She pulled the worn out paper out of her pocket and handed it Newt.

His hands trembled when he unfolded it and read it. "Why didn't you tell anyone?"

"This is about me and you, Newt. I won't tell anyone else. What connection am I supposed to establish? How much time do we have until this so-called end is triggered?"

He didn't react to her questions his only concern was the community. "We'll have to tell the others."

"No, I told you, this is between you and me." She snatched the small paper from his fingers. "I also remember a black-haired boy, telling me to make sure that you can leave the maze on your own." She laid a hand on his neck, pulled him closer and waited until their eyes locked. "That means there has to be a way out. And you are supposed to make it out of here. If I'll be gone tomorrow, you have to make it. Just grab the right occasion, there has to be one."

She felt his arm around her waist, pulling her closer, and she laid her hands on his chest pushing him away while her heart started beating faster. "Promise me to jump on the first opportunity, Newt."

"Will you be there?" There was this loneliness and despair coupled with the typical seriousness she had noticed in him before. And was it really affection she meant to see?

She was about to answer honestly that she didn't know, but she couldn't. She heard herself saying "Yes, I'll be waiting." It was her task to motivate him to get out of here. Alive. In one piece. She snuggled closer against and added. "For you."

"Then I'll come."

She leaned in to the kiss he offered when a red light blinded her. Simultaneously they looked over to the window where a beetle blade was about to vanish. At the same time someone jolted on the door. "Émilie? Are you there? Do you need help?"

It was Gally, the concern in his voice unmistakable. It was hopeless, Newt and Émilie exchanged a bugged glance before she answered. "Everything ok. Coming."

They shoved the table aside and when she opened the door, a rather suspicious Gally stood there, especially when he spotted Newt. "What are you two doing here?" He left the words 'alone' and 'behind a closed door' unspoken, but they resonated.

"We were working." Émilie didn't think he was buying it but she couldn't care less. "What do you want?"

"George has beaten a nail through the middle of his palm." George appeared beside Gally and hold up his hand. He was quite cool, considering that a gigantic, rusty nail was going right through the middle of his left palm.

"Come inside." Émilie hushed him while checking her limited equipment for something useful.

With a side-glance she observed Newt leaving. He had to pass Gally who didn't step aside and Newt deliberately bumped against him, making Gally to step back. It wasn't like Newt to act this bully. Newt and Gally exchanged a challenging glance. That was not the end, she knew it.

She took her time to get the nail out of George's hand. First rule when giving first aid: never, ever pull out a knife (in this case a nail), the blood-loss could be drastic. But he was lucky and hadn't hit a bone or vital vein.

Her bandages got more professional, too. By now she had a stock of dried moss and boiled out, torn cloths. Combined with some haemostatic herbs, they were a rather bitty substitute for a professional bandage, but they did the job and that was all that counted.

"Just be careful the next days, George. Don't need another accident of this kind soon."

"I have my fill of nails through my hand. Thanks." He replied dryly and waved his goodbye.

It was time to check on Newt and Gally, since Gally had left short after Newt. She scanned the surroundings. Where would she go when she wanted to straighten things out and wanted nobody to interfere or even notice what she was doing? Her glance fell on the slammer. Behind the house and the slammer was the optimal place. At this time of day, nobody would be around.

Bingo, she heard voices and even though she couldn't understand what they were saying, the aggressive tone was incontestable.

When she came closer, she picked her name "…Émilie…" but she didn't hear much more.

With care she peeked around the corner. Gally and Newt faced each other, but not in a friendly way, they were on each other's throat. She could see the veins on their necks emerging, their faces were red and their fists clenched. She could feel the highly charged atmosphere, they were short before a brawl.

Then she heard Gally saying "You are a cripple. She's out of your league."

The following deadly silence was telltale.

"That's not your bloody decision." Was Newt's response, the restrained rage obvious.

She didn't listen to the muffled reaction, she just turned away, closed her eyes and heard a fist connecting. They had to sort this out amongst themselves, she wouldn't embarrass them by interfering.

She checked the glade and saw anger rising. Nick and Alby were coming into their direction. If they noticed the brawl behind her, Newt and Gally would be in trouble. She walked over to them with a fast pace, to put enough space between the two and the brawl. But not too fast, that would be suspicious.

"Émilie, have you seen Gally?"

That had been a close one. Openly she returned Nick's questioning glance and answered while shaking her head. "No, I haven't."

"If you see him, could you tell him that we need his help?" Nick frowned.

If he was in the condition to help, she could, but Nick didn't need to know about her ressentiment. "Yes."

"Fine. We'll check over there." Much to her relief Nick and Alby changed direction.

"Fine." She called behind them and waited a little while to make sure they didn't change direction again before she went to Frypan. She knew she would need ice and fetched one bucket filled with ice and one bucket filled with cold water before she headed back to the surgery. She had just set the buckets down, when Newt appeared in the doorframe.

"Dear me!" She exclaimed. He was soaked with sweat, his shirt was torn in one place and covered with dirt as well as his trousers. Not to speak of his face. A drop of blood was in the corner of his mouth, his eyebrow was bleeding and his hair was completely messy. Yes, Gally wasn't easy to take on.

"What happened to you?" Though she knew, she had to ask. She was curious about the explanation.

The mischievous gleam in his eyes told her that he hadn't been unsuccessful. She didn't want to know how Gally looked like. "Had a clash with a bloody tree in my way."

That was lame, but she pretended to buy it. "Here is some ice."

He took the ice she had wrapped into a cloth and cooled his cheek. "I lost a tooth."

"Must have been a rather defensive tree." She mocked him. "Where is it?" She wasn't a dentist, but maybe she could do something about it.

"Still in my mouth. Heard that they can be put back. Can you have a look? Tried it myself but can't see where I put it."

"Sure. Give it to me." He took the tooth out of his cheek and she put it in the right place. The wound was still bleeding, she had good hopes that it worked.

"We have to do something about the cut over your brow." She hinted while holding the tooth in place with a finger. "Bite vigorously."

"I have a cut there? This bloody piece…" He started, but was soon interrupted.

"Bite vigorously. It's in the right place." She pulled her hand out, it seemed to work. "It wasn't the tree's fault that it was in your way. You should watch your steps." Just for the fun she wanted to see how far she could go, but her amusement must have been too obvious. His look became distrustful.

"Appears I have to sweep them out of the way." He tested to chew, it was still hurting, he grimaced with pain. "Bloody all of them." He added under his breath while watching her.

She dipped a cloth in the water and started to clean the cut over his eyebrow. "What about the tree?"

His smirk was back. "Will survive."

"Fine." She picked up needle and threat. "It is just two stitches. Sit on the bed."

She had to concentrate, not to catch a hair with the knot and bit her under-lip, from time to time she licked her lips with her tongue until she was satisfied. "Done."

He was staring at her, his hot breath tingled through her shirt on her chest. Suddenly she became aware that the whole constellation was over-intimate. She was standing between his legs, his chin resting on her chest, her hand still lingering on his cheek from her last check. She gulped, there was something she wanted to say, but she couldn't remember what. She couldn't remember anything.

Upon looking in his brown eyes, seeing his intention, she knew there was no escape, she was doomed. She couldn't avert her glance, following him as he rose, laying an arm around her waist and one in her neck.

She found her own arms wrapped around him, herself pressed against him and his familiar scent overwhelmed her.

 _They were used to stealing kisses on the sly and this was their favourite place. They were standing in the corner of a white room, they were holding each other tightly and sharing an intense she closed her eyes, she inhaled deeply, she never wanted to forget his intoxicating smell_

The recognition hit her, though she suspected it before. They had been friends before!

"Newt, we have done this before."

He searched her face. "Yes, I remember it. And this time we won't stop here."

She offered her lips and he accepted the invitation and kissed her lightly. She lost track of time, especially when one of his hands slipped under her shirt. With a delight grin she stopped his hand for a second.

"I hope so." Her passion met his and his hand on her back made her wanting more.

"No, I won't." He looked in the direction of Past's flowers before he added. "And I won't share."

All that she wanted was that he continued to caress her back. "Neither am I. You are mine, Newt. And I am yours. My petite mort is yours."

He didn't need a second invitation and turned his attention to a special place on her collarbone, pushing her shirt aside and placing an extraordinary intense kiss there. She had to hold on to herself not to moan into his ear, she wanted more and she wanted it now.

A red light scanned them up and down, and in mutual consent they looked to the deserted place where the beetle blade had been just a second ago.

"This is the bloody wrong place." He voiced her thoughts. And he was right considering the beetle blades as well as their comrades.

She felt their disappointment, but he was right. "Is there a better place?"

"Let's think about it." Reluctantly they broke the contact, he turned to leave, but Émilie stopped him, wanting one more kiss before he left. She had to be careful not to become addicted to it.

He was long gone, but she still felt his lips lingering on her skin. And she couldn't wipe this happy smile from her face.

A while later, Past appeared in the surgery. "Hi Émilie."

"Hi." He had a strange way of looking at her. "Is something wrong?"

His expression turned devilish and sardonically he remarked. "Seems that someone has gotten special treatment."

Irritated she shook her head. "What do you mean?"

He pointed to her shirt "How do you call this?"

She looked down and noted the fresh blood stains on her shirt and felt herself blushing. The only patient leaving blood stains on her white shirt was Newt. Must be connected with his habit saying 'bloody'. As far as her shirt was concerned it applied.

"And this?" He pointed on the spot Newt had taken so much interest in and she looked at it, undoubtedly a love-bit. Hastily she pushed her shirt over it, denying it was futile.

Past was amused and smirked. "At least that explains the pleased grin Newt displays outside."

"Do you want to tell me something?" She really didn't want to discuss the issue now.

He was generous enough not to insist to debate it further. "We sowed some of the seeds that came with the last Greenie. Appears there are some herbs among them you might want to check." Conspiratorial he leaned forward and whispered in her ear. "Best you'll check them together with Newt. Just keep your hands to the plants."

"Past?" She felt herself blushing. "Please don't tell anyone."

His sour expression deepened. "You two should restrain yourselves. Everyone a mile off can tell that you two get it on. Not my fault then."

"Please, Past." She hated herself for pleading, almost begging, but it showed an effect.

"Ok, for you, only for you, I'll be silent as the dead. Just to be clear: I am not doing it for Newt." He was reluctant, but she knew that he was reliable.

"Thanks. That's generous of you."

"Yeah, you have no idea." He mumbled, she patted his shoulder and another memory of her past was triggered.

 _There was one big downer while working for WICKED: the meals were ill-prepared._

 _Since Newt was her seatmate, he seemed to feel responsible and took on the task to introduce her to the conventions of the compound._

 _And the worst disappointment was the cantina. It was a large hall, resounding with the many voices, she knew that it would give her a headache later._

 _At first, she was rather enthusiastic, she was hungry. But the loud noise with which her colourless and mushy meal landed on her plate spoiled her appetite. It wasn't the caring way of her grandmother who used to arrange the meal like an artwork. Her last hope was that the taste contradicted the way the meal was served._

 _Her hope was crushed too soon, it was when she sat down with Newt and tasted the first spoon. Her expression must have been tell-tale since Newt asked "Is something wrong?"_

 _Fascinated she observed him while he dug in the meal. "How on earth can you eat this?"_

 _Irritated, he looked up while she shoved her plate with a repulsed expression away. "What's wrong with it?"_

 _Another boy took the seat beside her and butted in "Better sympathise with him, Émilie. He's Scotish."_

 _That explained a lot in Émilie's eye. "Oh, ok."_

" _What's having this to do with my origin?" Newt protested._

" _My name's Past." Past sent Newt to Coventry and leaned over in an intimate way. "I'm Swedish."_

 _Now, if this wasn't an improvement concerning the cuisine. "I'm Émilie as you might know already." She put on a pathetic face, to emphasize her suffering. "And I'm French."_

" _I love your accent. Please, keep on talking." He had incredible blue eyes. Never before she had seen such a deep blue. It was like looking into the clear sky after a heavy rain-shower._

 _She accepted the challenge and pouted. "Thanks, Past. I love your sweet-talking. Pray continue." He was an enchanter and womanizer and she bet he had a suiting saying for every girl he came on to. It was a game she liked to play._

" _Better you'll eat, Émilie." Newt interfered, somehow exhortative, pushing the plate back to her. "Next meal will take some hours."_

 _She pinched her mouth and fetched her plate back from Newt. He was right. It was reasonable. Riding the high horse and starving wouldn't get her anyway. But where was the fun in it?_

 _She took the pepper mill standing on the table to add at least a little taste. When she wanted to put it back, she caught Newt and Past exchanging a challenging glance and she meant seeing that Newt was forming the word 'mine' with his lips._

"Émilie?" Past asked with a concerned look and she shook her head to get rid of the livid memory. So the history of Newt, Past and her had started long ago in this constellation.

"Let's go." She headed to the garden and Past followed her.

Together with Newt and Willi she checked Past's plants, she was rather fast going through them and Willi became more and more adoring. "Why do you know all this, Émile?"

Newt and Willi both stared at her and she explained "My parents are both physicians, they work a lot. I spent my holidays on the apple-plantation of my grandparents. My grandmother was a herb-witch. Let us say it is the combined knowledge of my parents and my grandma."

"You remember your parents?" Willi looked wide-eyed at her and she saw the loss inside him.

"Yes, when my grandma died and my parents learned that they are terminally ill, I came here." She had the distinct feeling that this was enough information for now.

Newt frowned and pointed to a spot of the forest border close to one of the gates. "Yesterday, I found some really strange plants over there. Maybe they could be helpful."

She was thankful for the change to a more innocuous topic. "We can check it right now. Willi, could you plant the selected herbs into our patch?"

"No prob, sir." Willi saluted.

Newt beaconed her to the plants he had discovered and she was thrilled at first sight. "Why haven't we seen them before?"

He frowned. "I don't know, I checked the place before, but they haven't been here one week ago."

"I think they can be useful." She crouched, picked up a leaf and started to chew it. Her tongue became numb as well as her cheeks. The perfect anaesthetic. "We must…"

"Shut up." All of a sudden, Newt interrupted her roughly, he had become attentive, listening closely.

"What…" His hand shot forward and clamped over her mouth, while with his forefinger rose to his lips. He went deadly white and frantically checked their surroundings.

"We must hide." He spoke so low, that she barely understood him. He rose, grabbed her wrist, yanked her on her feet and sprinted the few steps to the wall, dragging her behind him. Determined, he pushed the ivy to the side and revealed a small niche. She opened her mouth to protest, there was no way that they both fitted into it, but he had wrapped an arm around her waist to squash them into it. Just when the ivy-curtain fell back, she heard it too. A strange, artificial noise, a groining accompanied by metal clicking.

She had seen the panic in his face and knew it was wise to remain quiet, Newt wasn't the kind of guy to react this way to scare her without any reason. She remained as quiet as she could, there was no room to move anyway, not even a paper would fit between them. With anyone else, she wouldn't have fit into the niche.

Under other circumstances, she would have enjoyed the closeness, but all of Newt told her that horror was closeby. His heart was racing, his body was stiff and she heard and felt his hard breathing in her ear.

And if Newt kept on breathing panic-stricken, there was a high chance that whatever they were hiding from, would find them. She had to soothe him and took his free hand and squeezed it. With effort she managed to lay her other hand on his shoulder.

' _Keep calm. Keep calm. Keep calm.'_ She kept on repeating in her mind though he couldn't hear her. Maybe her prudence helped him to get back his composure. ' _Newt, keep calm. Keep…_ '

' _I am calm!'_ She heard all of a sudden, recoiled and banged so hard against the rock that she saw stars.

' _Émilie? Is that you?' There was his voice again, but_ in her HEAD? She turned her head to the side, only to notice that Newt was staring wide-eyed at her.

She gave it a try and concentrated. _'Newt? Are you talking with me?'_

' _I… I don't know. I think that I can hear you in my mind.'_ He hadn't moved his lips, nevertheless she could hear him as clearly as if he has spoken and another memory came to her mind.

 _*The dark-haired boy. 'I manipulated your inserts. It can't be revoked. There is no way they can find out. Trust me, Émilie.'*_

Yes, she remembered. The dark-haired boy had rewritten a program to enable her to speak with Newt without the others noticing. _'I guess that's what we are doing right now, Newt.'_

' _Who is that dark-haired boy?'_

He had heard him, too? He had shared her memory? _'I can't remember, but I do remember that he supported me to help you. Could you hear him?'_

' _Yes, did he refer to us?'_

' _Yes, I think so. I have several memories of him. All of them are rather one-sided, hushed and kind of forbidden. He helped me to get here.'_

' _The griever is here.'_ He told her and her head turned to the opposite side and there _,_ right before their niche, a nightmare of pulsating flesh and machine parts had appeared. Émilie hold her breath and Newt's grip around her waist got tighter and if possible, he pulled her even closer making breathing even harder. She didn't even dare to think, the irrational idea crossing her mind that it could spot her by her thoughts.

' _Can it see us?'_ Despite her thoughts, she had to ask.

She felt his hesitation before answering. Its instruments were extended and waving through the air, ready to attack. There were some really nasty looking blades with the sun reflecting on them and she couldn't avert her eyes though it wasn't wise, she felt her knees getting weak and shaking.

' _I am not sure.'_ Newt finally answered.

Hopefully, it had no infrared-sensor. With the heat they were emitting, they were an easy target. In the eye of the threat, Newt was calm and she felt panic rising.

' _It takes too long.'_ She felt that he was eagerly changing his balance from one leg to the other.

' _What do you mean?'_ She wanted to know.

' _Why doesn't it move on?'_

All of a sudden a sunbeam reflected on a blade directly into her eye. The blade moved down with incredible speed and suppressing a cry with effort, she buried her face in Newt's neck muffling her cry there. He laid his hand in her neck. _'It cut a leaf of the ivy.'_

Just in this moment the griever moved on and Émilie felt Newt relaxing. Only a bit though.

' _When can we leave?'_ She remained with her head against his neck, she didn't want to face this thing again. And his hands on her waist and neck gave her some comfort.

' _We have to wait until we can't hear it anymore. But I think it will come back. It has to go back into the maze.'_

What a perspective. To be trapped together with Newt in this hide-out. If it only was a little larger and in front of it wouldn't be a griever patrolling.

And he was right, she heard the griever moving on, the noises faded. But not for long, and they became louder until the griever passed their niche and vanished. This time the noises died down until they vanished completely.

To be sure, they waited a few more minutes before Émilie craned her neck and peeked carefully around the corner. The griever was nowhere to be seen and she stepped outside, pulling Newt with her.

"Should we tell the others?" She asked. He knew the community better than her and could assess the reaction way better.

He shook his head. "No, I don't think so. The grievers never came into the glade, maybe this was just an isolated case. I don't want to rise a panic."

Being able to talk to each other without the others nothing could be rather useful. She was sure, that Newt was of the same opinion. _'Rather handy to be able to communicate this way.'_

She didn't need to look at him, she knew a smirk was spreading on his face. _'Indeed. But why can we do this?'_

' _I think it has to do with these inserts the boy mentioned in my memory, but I have no idea why. Do you think that we are the only ones who can do this?'_

Newt shrugged his shoulders. _'I never heard of this before. We shouldn't tell the others, it might rise too many questions and suspicions. And you said that this boy wants to help us. So maybe this was his idea of making it easier for us to communicate without others eavesdropping.'_

This was an idea Émilie liked. She could imagine a thousand things she wanted to tell Newt without anyone overhearing them. She smirked and raised an eyebrow. _'Perfect. I'll take it as a gift to use for our advantage.'_

His eyes locked with hers. _'Yes, but for now let's continue before they come looking for us. And we shouldn't use it too often around the others. They might be wondering why we stopped talking with each other.'_

She had to smile about the thought of Newt and her being mute while communicating. _'Agree. You are right.'_

On high alert - the griever might come back - they continued with their original plan and howked the plant. She brought it to Willi who was still busy and eagerly took the plant to add it to their patch.

In evening they gathered around the fire place, though it was only a small fire. Frypan had prepared twist bread for everyone and Gally introduced his brand new brewery which instantly found more supporters than Frypan's attempts.

With the first sip Émilie remembered her home.

 _She was standing right beside her grandfather, the huge apple plantation lying right in front of them. He handed her a small glass and she tasted the golden liquid. It was fantastic._

' _Interesting.'_ Newt said while she felt him stepping behind her and she nearly spilled her drink. Indeed, he shared her memories. She only hoped there weren't any embarrassing ones that came back. Though she was quite sure there weren't any embarrassing ones.

' _Could you please stop this? I nearly got a heart-attack. I am not used that someone talks with me in my head.'_

He didn't appear to be sorry one bit, but said. ' _There'll be a premonition next time.'_

Nick came and waved the keepers over to him since he had announced to reveal the latest escape plan. Past – as a keeper of the gardeners - was also there and she stepped beside him. They had decided to attribute her to the job 'keeper of the med-jacks'. She had been taken part in the preparations and couldn't wait to get started.

Obviously, Past had kept his promise. Nobody stared at her or asked curious questions, a clear indication. Especially, since Newt and Gally were the issue of rumour, both insisting on their unbelievable versions on how they had obtained their injuries. The most obvious explanation was a brawl of the two and probably most of the boys believed just that but there was no proof. The most reliable indication that Past hadn't talked, was that none of them had been given a good telling-off.

Nick cleared his throat and started to unfold the latest escape plan that had taken them several months to realise. "As many of you already heard, we'll start another attempt to escape tomorrow. To clear with the frenzied speculations, we're going through this now." He made a slight pause until he had the attention of everyone. "Tomorrow morning, Past will climb down through the hole." He pointed on the keeper of the gardeners and the place where the box appeared while a murmuring arose, that ended as soon as Nick continued. "We will secure him with the ropes we've collected over the last months and hope that they will be long enough. Gally, Alby, Newt and I will hold the ropes while Past will climb down." He clapped into his hands. "That's the plan for tomorrow. For now, let us enjoy the bread and Gally's new brew!"

There was a short applause and they spread around the fireplace to hold the twisted bread over the fire. Émilie walked over to Newt and settled beside him while they both waited for the first ones to leave the fireplace with their flame-grilled bread.

"Past found out about us." She started, she refrained from talking in his head, sitting together without talking could rise suspicion.

"That's the reason why he is staring at me the whole evening as if he wants to wring my neck." Newt massaged his neck while he took one sip of the latest brew.

She had the presence of mind not to turn to Past, letting him know that they were talking about him. "He promised me to keep quiet."

"And what did he want in return?" Newt frowned at Past.

"Nothing, he just promised." Émilie clarified when a thought crossed her mind. Didn't he trust her? "Are you jealous?" The last thing she needed was an overprotective boyfriend, who shared her memories. A disaster. Though she had the distinct feeling that there never had been anyone else than Newt.

She observed him closely, but he wasn't offended and answered honestly. "No. I wanted to know if I have to clear things with him to stay quiet."

"You don't have to." She assured him and laid a hand on his shoulder.

He threw a quick glance into the round. "Great. And I thought about our little problem."

"And? Did you come to a conclusion?"

"The slammer. Sharp after dinner. Tonight is too noticeable." Indeed, the slammer was a solution Émilie had to admit. Nobody would come near it at that time of day. And there was only a very small window in the door, you had to look through it on purpose to see what's inside the slammer. And who wanted to peek into a deserted slammer.

"Deal." She squeezed his shoulder before she took her hand away. "I'll go and talk with Minho, to fuel the flames of speculation."

"Good luck."

She took the chance when Minho grilled his bread and chose the place right beside him. She didn't have to wait too long until he addressed her.

"What happened?" he nodded in Newt's direction.

"Only a minor disagreement with an uncomprehending tree." She had the impression that he had asked to hear her version of the events, but had put one and one together already.

Minho looked in Gally's direction. "Doesn't look like he is understanding now."

So Minho knew, he was nobody's fool. "Think Newt clarified his position."

"What about you? Did you take a position?" He threw an estimating glance in her direction and nearly burned his bread.

She rotated her stick. Minho wanted to know if she was loyal. She was, especially to her pleasures. "Yes, I was clear."

They both observed Gally and Newt, they were ignoring each other.

"Thank you once again." Minho said out of the blue.

"Pardon me?"

"You make him laugh again, he hadn't since he arrived here. His desire to live is back."

She bit her under-lip, there was one thing she wanted from Minho and she knew she could rely on him in this point. "Promise me one thing."

He was careful, she liked this attitude of him. "Depends on what it is."

She looked over to Newt who whole-heartedly smiled back and came over. "Once the time comes to leave the glade and I am not around, for whatever reason, drag him away with you even if he doesn't want to."

"If you are not around, that'll be reason enough for him to leave." That was an abnormal serious talk for Minho and she felt a warm felling spreading inside her by Minho's words. If Minho thought that her influence on Newt was this strong, she could be sure that it was really the case.

"I hope so." She gave him a weak smile.

She felt his evaluating glance on her until Newt arrived, raising his glass to them and putting an arm around Émilie's shoulder. Finally, seeing them together, Minho said. "I promise, Émilie."

Author's notes:

Next chapter: The changing


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